Black Sin
by electricsymphony
Summary: There was always some obstacle that got in the way of Al's relationship with his family. They were too proud. He was too modest. They were secretive. He told you like it was. But it takes a little more than that to get blasted off the family tree.


_Gringotts Bank_

_August 21rst, 1944_

* * *

"Black Family Finances—I was wondering if you converted pounds in this establishment?"

I knew the question was simple, and thus his rapid change in demeanor was rather surprising. I'd never recalled a memory in my admittedly short life when a goblin had smiled at me, but I suppose I'd never had the chance to survey them correctly. This one had a hostile disposition about him—he was leaning over the maple desk with a critical eye and a curled lip. I hastily loosened my tie and he backed away, shuffling stray papers by his side.

"A Black, you say?" He asked, his snowy eyebrow shooting into his bleak hairline. "I've met most of the Blacks, pardon me saying, but I don't seem to recall you." I involuntarily shuddered a bit at the accusation—this was certainly not the first time I could recall someone forgetting me. I was rather forgettable. This time, though, it ultimately played to my advantage. The large and expansive family members also played a part, I'll admit.

"I work for most of my finances, sir, so you could say I don't use the facility very much. However, for this occasion, I have Muggle money I'm fond of using. As I'm sure you know, it would be nearly impossible to buy anything of consequence with a few dozen pounds in my robe pocket." I fished out a rather dull parchment substance from my robe and handed it over to the curious goblin. He turned it over in his rough hands and narrowed his eyes with a disgusted expression.

"Pardon my asking, sir, but how is it you've attained this?"

The scoff I was holding in was threatening to break through my expression of fake confidence. I clasped my hand on the outstretched pound and waved it in front of my face. "You aren't, I hope, insinuating this as a fake?"

He seemed particularly affronted by the statement, which I must admit was my aim. "We, unlike other banking establishments to remain unnamed, do not participate in distasteful customer trust issues, sir. Our policy started as a "Consumer Trust Organization" and has remained as thus for nearly a millennium. We do not appreciate the insinuation that our banking facility would doubt the judgment of a qualified and highly respected customer."

With every remark on his part, I was more reckless with my choice of words for the goblin. "If you would be so kind as to inform me, sir, I admit to being curious as to how a minor could be a qualified and highly respected customer. If I may be frank, sir, I view this "high respect" façade as a way to buy Black Family loyalty after the rather tragic withdrawal error last month. You do remember that, don't you?"

The pale goblin nodded his head fervently and took the multiple pounds from my outstretched hands. As he quickly ushered me towards a nearby hall, I pondered silently how much further I could push this.

"Did you happen to notify my parents of my arrival at your institution, sir? Owning to the fact I am a minor in the eyes of the Ministry it would only be fit of you to do such, wouldn't you agree?" His dark eyes widened in response, his pale colored brow furrowed in concentration and he snapped his fingers three times in quick, fluid motions. A sudden pop jolted me out of my reverie and I saw firsthand—albeit, not first the time—experienced goblin magic. The newest entry leered at me and I couldn't help feeling as though my plan might have been exposed. Fortunately, the second goblin turned away from me as quickly as his gaze had fallen on me.

"A problem here, Hiveki?" His tone was low and dangerous, giving him that unmistakable glint of authority. The first goblin—the one who had inevitably swallowed the rule book whole—was cowering in his presence. "May I help you, human sir?"

"I asked your employee here if I could retain access to the Black Family finances, and although I'm not sure where we would've gotten our signals crossed he seems to be under the idea that I was attempting to be hostile towards this establishment. After all, I am a very valued part of the Black family and demand to be treated as such. I have used this banking establishment for several transactions and I must say, I've never seen such a hostile work force."

"My apologies, young master," he said, and with a bow and a tilt of the head he grabbed Hiveki by the ears before the younger goblin could get a word in edgewise and dragged him through the dark and dank hallways. "If you'd excuse my presence for a moment, young sir." When he was out of sight, a curse escaped my lips and I rubbed my forehead in agitation. "This had better be damn well worth it, James," I muttered. I swear I heard footsteps in the distance and wiped my brow in concentration. I realized, highly affronted, that the footsteps I was hearing were not easily recognizable as goblin feet.

"I scared the shit out of you, didn't I Al?" I turned to face the now smirking blonde with gritted teeth. He merely looked at me with a mischievous smile, several blonde locks falling into his narrowed, ice blue eyes.

"Are you a fucking child, Craig?"

He swept the hair out of his eyes and locked them on me in a defiant manner. "Do you imagine a child would've been able to plan this so thoroughly? No, I doubt you'd have been able to find a child to do your dirty work, Black." James walked over to the vault on his right and slid his left hand across the edge of the surface. He quickly glanced back at me and continued—still with the same sarcastic, defiant tone—"I think the goblins will find they have a bit of a problem when they get back to the lobby. I'll estimate we have about ten minutes to take what's ours."

"A bit of a problem? What kind of problem exactly?" I suspected that I probably wouldn't have been able to imagine the kind of devious planning he was attempting. As I spoke, I walked in neat, evenly spaced steps towards him as I outstretched my hand to rest near his.

"You remember Connors, don't you?"

"The third year always after Riddle?"

"Apparently that's not all he's after," Craig continued, replacing his enthusiastic manner with the most bland, monotone voice I'd ever come from him. He leaned in closer and whispered—barely audible—"After his Father blew the fortune with several bad investments, let's just say he's a tad desperate in the "strapped for cash" area."

"You bribed him into creating a distraction for the goblins, then, I assume?" I turned towards him instantly, my hand still stretched towards the door, and raised one dark eyebrow. "That's a new low, even for you."

"No," he responded, a grin forming, "I told him that the Senior Goblin at Gringotts—who just happens to be my Father's accountant—let slip that Michael Connors had three more vaults that he, in the heat of the moment, forgot about." The grin was subsiding now as he inched closer. "He seemed particularly adamant on coming down and rectifying the situation. I simply gave him a—incentive—for which time frame he should bring it to fruition."

"And how much of an incentive did you offer?"

"That's completely irrelevant, Al," he smirked, "Did I do the job to your satisfaction or not?"

I didn't condone him with an answer at first. I lifted my hand in shock and watched as the Goblin Metal of the door disappeared in a blaze of fire. James gave me a toothy grin and pulled his wand from the holster loop on his belt. Touching the sparks with his wand, he muttered something so incoherent I doubted—with almost extreme certainty—that whatever he was speaking was in English.

"You, James Craig, are an immature, sodding child."

"And…" he prodded, the mischievous grin gone.

"A bloody fucking genius."

He smiled. "All my brilliance and I wanted was some recognition."

* * *

I, Alphrad Caeleno Black, broke into Gringotts Bank this morning to take over 225 galleons that was stolen from me five years ago by my own mother. She, under the guise that she believed "In a family situation, what's mine is yours and vice versa", stole nearly 225 galleons from my personal vault to pay off one of Grindelwald's henchman that threatened to murder her if she didn't compensate for her husband's use of money.

I am not extraordinarily proud of my family, although that is a massive understatement. The Black Family has been around since the beginning of time, and have produced many "Noble Members" of the Wizarding Community—whatever that means. Every member of the family—except for a select few who were disowned and never spoken of again—have gone to Hogwarts School and have all been Slytherins. If I could've been one of those who had broken tradition, it would've been a great turning point in my life. As it is, the Sorting Hat saw far too much cunning potential in me to ignore. So, I was dubbed into the House of my family that I share grudgingly with my snobbish siblings—Walburga and Cygnus.

I've inhabited Slytherin House at Hogwarts for nearly five years, and have learnt quite a bit from their hostile instincts. Bribes are considered the norm, and deceit runs high through the green, stone walls. Although most of the members come from heavily privileged families, stealing is considered a reasonable route to take. Any sort of manipulation is encouraged from the moment you sit at the table adorned by silver and green. And thus, I've learned to take friendships with a grain of salt.

The only person I'd ever once considered a friend was James Craig, a pure-blood blonde descended from the Malfoys nearly three centuries ago. He, quite like I, was accustomed to the Slytherin lifestyle that was so indicative of his home life. At first, it was a grudging alliance on both sides—we promised to work for the gain of ourselves, and if the opportunity arose, would strive for the other's personal gain as well. As time wore on, we spent more time together than we did apart, planning and conspiring against weaker known members of the house. And, although I'd like to pretend it was the other way around, I felt an attachment to the immature yet brilliant young blonde.

So, when the opportunity arose to steal back 225 galleons from my mother—whom James and I both shared an intense dislike for—he couldn't refuse the offer to participate.

The problem, however, was when we exited Gringotts, smirks on our faces and a thrill gleaming in our eyes. For my younger brother Cygnus was known to wander Diagon Alley for innocent muggleborn children to threaten with hexes. When we came across the dark-haired boy, I could promise I hadn't expected the scene we'd stumbled upon.

"Such a pretty name for a pretty girl, I must say ma'am." It raised my suspicion highly that my 13 year old brother was flirting with a bystander when he clearly loved causing trouble far more than any girl that had crossed his path. "You are aware, however, that your standing as a mudblood clearly forbids me to associate with you."

As we walked closer, I got a better look at the subject of his ridicule for today. The slightly amused curl of her lip suggested she was not at all intimidated by the young boy a head shorter than herself. Her dark blonde hair shone under the damp lit lamp of the Leaky Cauldron above us, the subtle curls accentuated by the slightly red tint of the light. Her eyes were a light, striking shade of green and they narrowed at Cygnus. The smile that graced her lips was shy of nothing I'd ever seen before. It took me less than a moment to decide it was certainly time to step in. James, however, not quite as entranced by her beauty as I was, took the first move.

"Troubling this fine, young lady are we Cygnus?" As my brother finally noticed our presence, his cruel disposition turned upon us at once. "Here I thought you could only take on the brutally intimidating young First Year males. This, I must say, is a new low for you, mate."

Ignoring James completely, Cygnus' attention turned upon me quicker than I had time to react. "What business do you have in Diagon, Al? I was under the impression you rather liked to shop in the Hogsmeade district, if my sources are correct."

"As much as I'd like to comment about your 'sources', my dear brother, I have no intention of the like by coming here. I simply was wondering—damn my insipid curiosity—what this young lady had done to receive your highly sought out presence."

The girl, whom I hadn't received a name to properly allude her to, stood in blatant curiosity at the subtly hostile display. There was a moment of silence as Cygnus surveyed his surroundings with displeasure. "My presence here is unquestionably far too sophisticated for the recipients. Two unintelligent muggle-loving Slytherin fools—one whom I begrudging am forced to identify as family—and a far too cocky mudblood girl are not worth my attention nor my effort to socialize with." With that final word, he walked off.

I turned to the girl, hearing James' loud scoff from behind me. "I can't begin to apologize for my brother's presence in this alley. One of the more dangerous risks you take when you walk these streets."

"Well thank you for the kind display of bravery, sir," she said with a teasing smirk on her lips. I tried as hard as I could do conceal it, but the very tone of her voice made my heart stop. "A name for my brave hero would make this conversation a little less awkward."

"Al Black," I told her with a legitimate smile on my face, "…and your relentless attacker is unfortunately my brother, Cygnus."

The loud cough from behind me forced us both to avert our attention to James with a wicked grin on his face. "And I, my young, beautiful flower am James Craig."

"Ignore him," I said, turning to face her once more, "…he seems to think that being egotistical will be charming to the less intelligent girls. You, I'm sure, wouldn't fall to that trap." She nodded and started to walk in the other direction, but I called out in time to stop her. "I… never got your name."

She raised an eyebrow with a silent laugh and answered in barely a whisper, "Rosaline Lavinche."

As I watched her leave, the continuous patting on my shoulder went unnoticed. "She was a beauty, wasn't she?" James remarked, whistling at the thought of her. I turned to whack him in the shoulder but missed by barely an inch. "Well, she was."

I stated at the place where she had once been.

As James retreated in the other direction he yelled back at me, "Are you coming or not, lover boy?"

* * *

I'm really proud of this one, and I hope you all like it to. Don't forget to hit the purple button.

S.S.M.


End file.
